


Scream

by eastcoastvaped



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Murder, Not Happy, Revenge, brief mention of blu scout and pauling, some dadspy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:29:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastcoastvaped/pseuds/eastcoastvaped
Summary: Jeremy gets his revenge.





	Scream

Murder isn’t sane, but what else is there to do?

I want to scream, I want to everday. Except when I can’t. I do this for you, I do this to forget you. I wish I could forget you.

I want to scream when I kill another victim.

I want to scream when I take another contract.

I want to scream when I see you.

And I will want to scream when I kill you.

But I haven’t screamed all of those times, and I won’t scream when you’re dead. You deserve what’s coming.

I walked into the meeting room. I saw you sitting across from me and my stomach lurched. I got my contract from our manager, and I left. Another day, another person to kill. The year was 1973, and our work as mercenaries had ended. We had become assassins. You were already familiar with the task, you were already familiar with taking contracts and killing whoever you were assigned to. You didn’t feel remorse, you didn’t care when you saw their faces, bloody and pale, after seeing how they had a family, after seeing their faces full of life. 

You didn’t feel, and never did.

I left the room the same as I always do, read the instructions on my way out of the base, read the details on the bus ride there, and burned the contract at my bus stop.

The metal of my gun felt cold and harsh against the skin of my hand as I walked into the building. I found the man’s desk, and left a note to meet his girlfriend on the roof of the office.

I waited for him on the roof, and I shot him. Put a different gun in his hands, pushed him off the roof and took the fire escape down and away from the building. Got on the bus, and went home.

Again, another day, another person to kill. 

When I got home that day, I laid down in my bed. My apartment was alright. Grafitti all over the walls, posters everywhere, cluttered shelves and chairs. As I laid there, eyes glossy and staring up at the ceiling, I thought of you.

How at that moment, you were probably holed up in a hotel room, sitting on the balcony holding your rifle. Looking down the scope at someone relaxing in the city, and sipping your coffee. Watching them walk into an abandoned alleyway from above, and pulling the trigger. I thought of that, and I thought of how you laughed a bit after, as you went to focus your scope on that person’s partner. Heartless as ever.

I knew you were heartless from the start. A cold, empty, killing machine. Yet I fell for you anyways, as you were cold, and that kinda turned me on.

You made me feel special by being my friend-with-benefits, and I fell in love. Fell for your australian accent, or your green eyes, or for your lustful and serious personality. That was when I was upbeat, hopeful, naieve.

Now I’m just cold and alone too..

I knew you were heartless when you told me you loved me and ignored me for three days. I knew it when you started hanging out with me less and less.

And I knew it when I saw you making out with a dude from the other side, and then when I went to your van to talk two nights later and I caught you in bed with him, loving him the way you loved me.

I never spoke clearly to you again, and I never was the youthful boston kid everyone knew again.

After I thought about that week for the thousandth time that month, I called our manager to see if I had any contracts lined up, she said no.

That’s when I decided what I had to do. I had to kill someone again, but this time off-contract. This time it was personal, not business. This time, I was going to kill you.

The first step was to figure out where you would be and when. The logical answer was to call my coworker (and father) who was our Spy back in mercenary days. He knew about where everyone was and what they were doing. Was he supposed to know? No, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“Hey, Jack, uh, what’s up buddy?”

“Fuck off Jeremy.” He was as bright and poignant as ever.

“Let me get to the point buddy. I need to know where Mundy will be tomorrow.”

“Why? To go make out with that filthy mongrel?”  
“No, I’m gonna do something much worse.” I chuckled a bit.

“Whatever, perdant, he will be in the city tomorrow, scheduled to lie low in the Teufort motel.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I cringed at calling him this again.

“Jeremy, never call me that again.” I hung up the phone.

All embarassment about calling him “Dad” aside, I got the information I needed. And with that information, I called and booked a room for myself at the motel.

I packed what I would need in a duffle bag. Change of clothes, toothbrush, body bag, belt sander, gun with bullets, you know, the usual.

I jogged to the motel, checked in, and spent the night. In the morning, I went to the front desk and asked which room a “Mr. Michael M” would be staying in. Room 23.

I knocked on your door, you peeked out to see who it was, and if that person was going to kill you. You saw me. 

“Oh, ‘ello Jeremy.”

“What’s up bud?” I smiled at you, and you figured I wasn’t here to kill you, so you let me in. If only you knew. 

We talked in the motel room. It felt wrong, weird, nauseating. I wanted to scream. I smiled and nodded and acted friendly and calm, but I wanted to scream.

I walked with you around the room, and walked with you into the bathroom. You looked in the mirror and smiled as you talked to me. I smiled back as I put my arm around you. We laughed together. For a moment, I felt my love for you again as I heard your laugh.

Then I came back to reality, and slit your throat.

**Author's Note:**

> told you it wasnt happy. please leave feedback if you have any.


End file.
